These Small Hours
by pokeitlikejello
Summary: Huddy. A long term patient connected to both House and Cuddy passes away. Takes place after Tritter arc in Season Three, just to give time frame. And I hate writing summaries, btw.


**I ****don't own House M.D. nor the characters. This is a oneshot and ONLY a oneshot. It is partially inspired by some things I'm currently grappling with and is largely inspired by the song "Little Wonders" by Rob Thomas. Enjoy, kids.**

* * *

"Dr. Cameron!"

Cuddy made her way across the hospital lobby. Cameron froze and offered an awkward smile.

"Yes, Dr. Cuddy?"

Cuddy folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes. "Where's Dr. House?"

"He's, uh..." Cameron tried to find the right words to provide an answer, yet not give up her boss. "Um... he's..."

"Doing something he's not suppose to be doing," Cuddy finished and nodded tiredly.

She checked her watch. It was quarter to three. Cuddy looked back to Cameron, who gave another smile, hoping she wasn't going to part of misplaced anger.

"Is he in the hospital at least?" Cuddy asked.

"No." Cameron shook her head.

"Of course not," Cuddy muttered in return. "When he gets back, tell him I need to see him."

"Yes, Dr. Cuddy." Cameron gave a short nod and took off, feeling as if she just dodged a bullet.

* * *

"Where is he?"

Cuddy placed her hands on her hips as she looked at House's team as they sat around their conference table. Papers were spread over the table and each member appeared exhausted.

"Don't know," Foreman was the first to answer.

"We haven't seen him for over an hour," Chase added, leaning back in his chair.

"I told him you needed to see him," Cameron said with a shrug. "He might be with Dr. Wilson."

Cuddy sighed. "When he comes back, can you please tell him to find me? And tell him it has to do with Dr. Fitzgerald."

"Okay," Foreman agreed.

"Thank you," Cuddy replied, but she was already out the door.

* * *

Cuddy thrust the door to Wilson's office open harshly. She didn't even look to Wilson, but glanced around the room instead. However, there was no House.

"Can I help you?" Wilson asked from his desk, pen poised in hand and chart open in front of him.

"Have you seen House?" Cuddy let her shoulders droop in her defeat.

"Did you check his office?" Wilson raised his eyebrows.

"No," Cuddy's deflated sarcasm made Wilson wince.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I haven't seen him since this morning." Wilson lowered his pen to his desk. "Why? What did he do?"

"Nothing." Cuddy shook her head and began out the door. "Tell him I'm looking for him."

"Sure," Wilson responded to the closing of his office door.

* * *

"What've we got?"

House swung his cane grandly as he stopped in front of his exhausted team. They stared up at him from around the conference table. It was just past seven and the numerous fruitless tests they ran all day had taken their toll.

"Dr. Cuddy stopped-" Cuddy began, bringing her eyes to House.

"Ahtch!" House cut her off sharply. "Patient now." He looked towards Foreman and Chase. "Diagnosis?"

Cameron frowned. "She said-"

"I still think it's in his brain," Foreman cut Cameron off, the want to go home greater than the need to deliver Cuddy's message.

"You're an idiot," House told him. "The tests were negative."

"I know, but-" Foreman tried to justify.

"She mentioned Dr. Fitzgerald," Cameron jumped in, still hung up on Cuddy's hunt for House.

"-just because the scans didn't show-" Foreman continued on.

"Did you say Fitzgerald?" House's full attention was on Cameron.

"Dr. Cuddy said to tell you-" Cameron said, but stopped as House took off out of the room. "House!"

* * *

House limped as fast as his damaged thigh would allow. He shoved the glass door open and stepped into a hospital room without a patient. He froze, taking a look around, and walked out of the room.

"Hey, you!" he called out to a passing nurse. "Where is he?"

House nodded toward the empty room. The nurse followed his indication and then looked back at House. She shook her head.

"He passed an hour ago," she told him.

"What do you mean 'he passed'?" House's eyebrows drew together.

"He was taken off life support." The nurse shrugged. "Dr. Cuddy did it herself. You can go ask her about it."

* * *

"Where's Cuddy?"

House limped into Wilson's office just as he was putting on his coat. He looked to House, somewhat surprised, and zipped his coat up.

"I'm guessing by the late hour, she went home." Wilson picked up his briefcase. "What happened? She was looking for you earlier."

House shook his head as he headed for the door. "Nothing."

* * *

"I knew you were still here."

House closed Cuddy's office door behind him. It was well after ten at night and he had finally managed to find her in her office. The blinds were drawn and the room appeared dark, but the desk lamp was on.

Cuddy looked up from the stack of papers on her desk. Her face softened. "I tried to find you-"

"You couldn't wait?" House cut her off and stepped further into the room.

Cuddy shook her head slightly. "The family requested-"

"I didn't see them here." House raised his eyebrows at her.

"They weren't," Cuddy replied.

"That's why you should have lied to them and waited for me," House bitterly returned.

"House." Cuddy was feeling a sympathy for him that hurt.

"Where were they?" he asked, but didn't meet her eyes.

"Since Lynette passed away, they thought it was right that he be with her," Cuddy told him, repeating the words spoken to her through the phone that morning. "They said they made peace with his death and didn't need to be here."

"They were selfish and he died alone." House began to pace.

"He wasn't alone," Cuddy offered, indicating herself.

"I should have been there too," House said quietly.

It was hurting Cuddy to see House as he was and feel so powerless. "I tried to-"

"I know," he cut her off. He paused a moment in speech and stride. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"It's okay." Cuddy paused as well. "I was glad to do it. He wouldn't have wanted to live like that. They really kept him on life support too long."

"Yeah," House agreed, pacing once again.

Cuddy's eyes followed him. "Even your badgering couldn't get Lynette to give up on him."

"Yeah." House only caught half of what Cuddy said. He had lost himself in his own thoughts.

"I guess it must be nice though." Cuddy gave a small shrug.

House suddenly stopped, drawn back into the world. He looked to Cuddy. "To be in a brain dead coma?"

"_No_," Cuddy emphasized her answer. "Having someone who will never give up on you."

"Yeah," House agreed again. He thought about starting his pacing once more.

"God, I remember how into it he was." A smile tugged at the corners of Cuddy's mouth. "He was excited about everything he taught. I loved his classes. You worked with him closely, didn't you?"

"Yeah." House nodded slowly as he stared at Cuddy's desk.

Cuddy began to feel worse about the situation. "Greg, I waited as long as I-"

"I know." He brought his eyes up to her. "I should have been there, but I can't change the past, so... see you tomorrow."

House turned and began towards the door. Cuddy quickly rose to her feet.

"Wait," Cuddy told him. "Don't go."

House turned. "Why?"

"I don't want to be alone right now," Cuddy spoke quickly.

House shook his head. "Don't lie to me."

Cuddy knew he would see right through it. She let out a sigh. "You're planning to drink yourself into a stupor or get high. Not tonight. Park it."

"Park it?" House repeated in disbelief over her terminology.

"Sit," Cuddy commanded. "I'm not getting drunk or high and neither are you."

"We can do it together." House shrugged. "The more, the merrier."

Cuddy narrowed her eyes at him. "That's not even funny."

House let out a sigh of his own and limped over to the couch. He rested his cane against the side of the couch before seating himself upon it. Cuddy crossed the room to her armchair. She sat and House noticed her shoes were off. He wondered how long she was going to make him stay there.

Cuddy kept her eyes on him. "If you want to talk about any-"

"Save it," he cut her off sharply.

"Or if you want to see his body, we can-" she tried to suggest.

"No." He wasn't looking at her again

"I'm sorry," Cuddy apologized. She shook her head. "I should have tried to stall more. I didn't know you'd be this upset."

House brought his eyes to her. "Do I look upset?"

"Yes," she replied bluntly.

"You're mistaking that for the contempt I feel for you because you're keeping me here," House said harshly in return.

Cuddy shrugged. "You could have easily walked right out the door."

House reached for his cane. "Okay, then."

Cuddy grabbed House's cane before he could and pulled it from his grasp. She set it against the armchair as House leaned back into the cushions of the couch.

"How long are we going to do this?" House asked loudly. "I have a prostitute coming over at midnight and need to prepare for-"

"I want you to be safe tonight," Cuddy cut him off, ignoring his comments. "I know you admired Dr. Fitzgerald. I want to know you'll be okay."

"I'll be fine," House replied.

Cuddy leaned in closer to the couch. "How can I be sure?"

"Trust me?" House suggested, raising his eyebrows. Cuddy gave him a look. House dropped his act. "Or not."

Cuddy folded her arms across her chest as she straightened in the chair. "I wish you would let me in."

House's eyebrows drew together. "What extreme sexual position is that?"

"No, I mean it." Cuddy attempted to steer the conversation into something of serious substance. "I wish you would _talk_ to me. I worry about you."

"Why?" House stared at her as if she was insane.

"Because Dr. Fitzgerald died and we both know you were going to sedate yourself," Cuddy said sharply.

House frowned. "No, I wasn't."

"No?" Cuddy repeated.

"No," House affirmed.

"I don't believe you," Cuddy replied, shaking her head slightly. She stood from the armchair and moved towards the center of the room. She couldn't be so close to him at this moment. "God, I wish I did, but I won't be blind to your problems, Greg. I've been blind too long."

His eyes were on her. "To everything."

She faced him. "What?"

"To. Everything." he repeated himself.

Cuddy kept her eyes locked with his. "What do you-"

"Never mind," he cut her off.

"See?" Cuddy crossed back over to armchair and flopped down on it. "You open and close so fast, I never know what to trust."

"I have pain, Cuddy," House said. "I have real pain that doesn't go away."

"I know," Cuddy replied quietly.

"Do you believe that?" he asked her.

She paused and let out a slight sigh. "Yes."

"There," he offered with a shrug. "You've got something to trust."

"Yeah, your _pain_," she agreed. "I want to trust _you_. Like I used to. I want to know you're not killing yourself. I want to know that you will be _alright_."

"Can't always get what you want," his tone was beginning to irritate her.

She let out another sigh. "I know."

House snatched his cane quickly, planning a great escape. However, Cuddy was faster and grabbed the end of it before he could take it over. House yanked the cane as hard as he could.

Cuddy was pulled from her seat and landed on top of House. He pushed her roughly to the empty space next to him on the couch in order to get her body weight off his damaged thigh.

"Sorry," Cuddy apologized, releasing the cane to him.

"I pulled _you_ on top of _me_, remember?" House asked her and then placed his cane against the couch. "I knew what I was doing."

Cuddy eyed him up. "Are you okay?"

House looked back to her. "Do I look okay?"

"No," Cuddy answered.

"I'm okay," House replied.

Cuddy frowned as her eyebrows drew together. She lowered her gaze to the floor. House was now intrigued and watched her carefully.

"When Dr. Fitzgerald started to get really bad, I went in to see him," Cuddy began. "Lynette was getting a soda and it was just the two of us." She paused, finding the words hard to speak aloud. "He told me you were the best doctor he's ever seen. That working with you, even if it was at school, was a privilege."

"He was sick and senile." House shrugged it off. "He didn't know what he was saying."

Cuddy raised her head and locked eyes with House. "He knew _exactly_ what he was saying."

House lowered his gaze to the floor. Cuddy breathed out, watching him now. She knew he appreciated the fact that she told him. Usually he would flaunt his genius to anyone who would listen, especially after being complimented on it. However, because of his denial, Cuddy knew it meant _something_ to him.

"Do you think I have a problem?" House rubbed his hands together slowly, his eyes on them.

"What do you mean?" Cuddy's eyes were still on him.

"With the..." He paused, the word sticking in his throat. "Drugs."

Cuddy eyed him up carefully. She wasn't sure what territory she was in, but she was going to answer him honestly. "Yes."

"What would you think of me if I..." He was having trouble with his words. "Cleaned up?

"Were drug free?" Cuddy tried to understand exactly what he was saying.

"Not drug free." He looked to her. "I have _pain_, Cuddy. If I was... drug managed."

"I don't know." She frowned. "What am I suppose to say to that?"

"Would you be different to me?" he asked.

"Well, I wouldn't be giving you dirty looks every time you popped a Vicodin," she replied. "What is it that you want me to say?"

"Nothing." House looked back down at the floor, becoming quiet. After a moment, he brought his eyes back to her. "Would you consider me?"

"Consider yo- you're serious." Cuddy stared at him. "Greg... I've... There _were_ feelings... But, things are complicated." She shook her head. "Not even the drugs, but..."

"I was just asking to make you uncomfortable enough to force me to leave." House shrugged, trying to play it off as such. He almost succeeded.

"No, you weren't," Cuddy replied quietly and diverted her eyes from him.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like?" he asked her.

House moved his hand over to hers and slipped his long fingers in between her thin ones. Cuddy stared down at their entwined hands and drew in a breath. However, she couldn't bring herself to look at him.

"What would it be like," he went on, "if this was normal for you?"

"I'd have to get my head examined." Her mouth was dry and her attempt at a joke was stale. She cleared her throat. "Besides, being with you is never normal."

"What if it was?" His eyes were on her.

House lightly ran his thumb back and forth across the back of Cuddy's hand. She watched his thumb for a moment before looking up at him. He stopped moving his thumb and leaned into her, kissing her.

She pulled back. "Don't do this."

"You can't deny me forever." It was his attempt at a joke, but it fell flat as well.

"I'm pregnant."

House drew back and Cuddy glanced over at the doorway, almost wishing there was someone to burst in at that moment. When she finally looked back over to House, she found he had been staring at her.

"I thought your breasts looked bigger," House said. "I figured it was the bra."

"Partially the bra." Cuddy went along with it, but then saddened greatly. "Dr. Fitzgerald is dead and there's a life inside of me. Dr. Fitzgerald will be decaying while my baby is growing." Cuddy leaned forward, placing her face in her hands. "It doesn't make sense."

"If you think about it, nothing really makes sense," House replied. "We think we have it figured out, but we don't. Sometimes, we simply get lucky."

Cuddy straightened up, staring forward. "Can we pretend it's normal?"

"What?" House's eyebrows drew together.

"For right now. Here. Can we just pretend it's normal?" She looked to him desperately. "Please."

House nodded, still slightly unsure. "Yeah."

Cuddy found herself in his arms, resting against his chest, feet drawn up towards her. She closed her eyes as he held onto her. She could hear his heartbeat and he could smell her hair conditioner.

"I'm scared," she confessed, just above a whisper.

He nodded slightly. "Me too."


End file.
